#leon pines

[vulpixen]

I made a fic for @stanuary in going with the prompt Animals. This is set in my Lost and Gained AU where Stan has a wife and kids as well as grandkids. Enjoy this small read of the animals Stan has had in his life!

_________

A young Stan huffed when he was tasked to take out the trash this time around after dinner. It was full and heavy, but his dad Filbrick told him to suck it up and take it out to the trash cans outside. Out the back door, Stan was dragging the hefty load to the back when all of a sudden, he heard the sounds of chittering and the clanks and shattering glass falling out. It alarmed Stan so he put up a tough-guy attitude to confront this supposed intruder. 

“Hey! Stay out of our trash or I’ll give you a knuckle sandwich! And not the edible kind!”

Stan marched up the trash and what he found shocked him. It was a young possum that was munching on a tossed out sandwich when it looked up at the young boy and hissed at him. Stan expected a seagull or rat in there, but this possum seemed like a cooler animal than any other animal he encountered. A little guy trying his best to survive in this world all alone. Stan couldn’t help but to give some sympathy. 

“Uh… actually,” Stan presented the garbage to the possum, “you can have this. I’m not allowed to have pets, but you seem real neat! I’m gonna call you Shanklin!” The possum inched closer to Stan and sniffed at him. Stan slowly reached to touch the possum and pet him, disregarding he was stinky and covered in trash. 

________________________________________________________

Some years later….

Stan and Andrea took the time to go camping with their three children, James, Jessie and Leroy while in Perdido Key, Florida by the water. The day was sunny and the water was fine for sailing on the Stan o’ War. It was a good, sturdy boat for the occasion, even without Ford there to enjoy it, too. Stan thought back to him, but he wanted to be happy for his kids and put on a smile.

It would be the afternoon while James and Jessie were chasing each other by the shore when they come across a young chocolate labrador looking at them with interest. 

James stopped in his tracks to take notice of the dog. The dog seemed to be a stray and didn't see another person around whom the animal could belong to. Jessie was immediately happy to see a dog. 

“Doggie!” Jessie slowly goes up to the dog to let him sniff at her and open to being petted. 

“Hey, dog, what are you doing out here?” James and Jessie noticed the dog not having a collar and name tag. “You lost, boy?” The dog licked at him. 

“He doesn’t belong to anyone, it seems like,” Jessie smiled brightly at an idea. “Think we can ask Mom and Dad if we can keep him?” James appeared doubtful, having heard his dad say they can’t have a lot of pets, but pets weren’t exactly out of the question. 

“We can try, but you know Dad doesn’t approve of most animals. Like that one time we tried to convince him we wanted a hamster.” Jessie frowned but she was hopeful. 

“We can still try. This dog needs a home.”

The twin boy and girl lead the eager dog back with him to the camper where Stan and Andrea were cooking hotdogs and displaying the chips and soda/water for them all to have. Leroy helped with setting it up. 

James and Jessie arrived with the dog walking next to them, wagging his tail smelling delicious food. Leroy gasped seeing the dog and brought a smile on his face. 

“Mom! Dad! We found a dog!” announced James. Stan looked from the grill and Andrea from the cooler to see the dog. Stan wasn’t too keen about it. No other pet can replace what Shanklin had in his heart. 

“No. We can’t keep the dog.” The dog stopped wagging his tail and the kids were disappointed. Andrea seemed dismayed as well. Stan continued grilling the hotdogs. “We don’t have the means and that dog could belong to someone.”

“But he has no collar and name tag. He’s a stray that needs a home.” Jessie displayed the puppy eyes and quivered her lips in pleading. 

“We never had a dog before,” mentioned Leroy. 

Andrea looked at her husband and got up from her seat to go up to him. 

“We can make room, Stan and pick up pet supplies on the way home.”

“See? Mom wants a dog, too!” James spoke. 

Stan could see he was outvoted four to one. He took a look at the dog and was reminded of when his dad denied him pets, but not Shanklin as he never told him nor his Ma of him when he was around and stayed outside. The white cat they had was more of their Ma's cat named Pearly than his and Ford's, the cat having been considered an exception. A dog was very different from a possum. But he cannot deny the family a pet when he’d been denied for much of his life. Why deny them this?

“... Okay. We can keep him. So long as he doesn’t pee and poop on anything, he can stay.” The kids cheered and hugged the dog. Stan gave the dog an unseasoned hotdog and pet the animal. 

“What name do you think we should give him?” The kids each had their idea of what to name their new family member. 

“Butch!”

“Chocolate!”

“Beethoven!”

“Lion.” Andrea suggested. “Like the Sea Lion, dogs of the sea.” The kids seemed onboard with the name. “And they love the water like this one does.”

Stan felt his heart warmed seeing his family happy with the new addition and agreed to the name. “Alright, Lion it is.”

______________________________________________________

Years later….

Stan found a kid(young goat) on his property when one of his grandkids showed him the small goat outside in his front yard. 

“Grandpa, look!” exclaimed one of the grandsons Leon, looking much like a younger version of his grandpa Stan, but with blue eyes filled with excitement. “Someone left a goat here and drove away. I don’t think they’re gonna come back.”

Stan snorted, recognizing the guy who shorted him on cash that drove off. “That cheapskate! … Well, I’m stuck with a goat now.” He knelt down to the brown goat with the chipped horn as he bleets at him and reached for his burgundy fez hat to chew on, making Leon laugh. 

“I think he likes you!”

“He ain’t gonna be eating this. I’ll get him some food and think about what to do with him. I have to talk to your grandma about it.” Leon perked a smile. 

“I think you should keep him. You and Granny Andy should have a pet.”

“Oh? How come?” The young boy shrugged. 

“Goats are neat to have, I think. He can keep the lawn from growing more and less money for you to spend on mowing.” Stan laughed in amusement. 

“That’s a great idea! We’ll just see.” 

#gravity falls #stan pines #stanley pines #vulpixens fanfiction #vulpixens ocs #andrea pereira #leon pines #stanuary 2024 #lost and gained au #james pines #jessie pines #leroy pines

[drysaladandketchup]

for the "things you said" writing meme -- matthew/leon, 12 :)

Thank you for the request <3 I realised very quickly I have no idea what constitutes a 'mini' fic. I struggle to write 'mini' anything lol. Hopefully this still satisfies :)

12. things you said when you thought i was asleep

It takes all of Matthew's willpower not to reach over and smash his phone just to shut off the alarm. All that saves his wallet and an awkward trip to the Apple store is the split-second realisation that the shrieking in his ear isn't his usual alarm.

It's a ringtone. Not his own, either.

He pries his eyes open to find the world through the window is still dark. One of the balcony doors is still ajar, letting in a cool night breeze. He's lying on his side in his own bed, the end of the all-star weekend memorialized by several aches and bruises.

His hips and ass are a little sore too, but that's unrelated. Technically.

The ringing stops. Someone huffs behind him.

Someone. Yeah, no, Matthew knows who it is. They may have met up at the bar once the media was done swarming, but Matthew was far from drunk. Painfully sober, in fact. If he's being honest with himself, he was hoping things would turn out this way.

One more time. One more moment. Because it's been a long time since they were them. Longer still since the sex was just sex, since hate became want. Matthew is strong in a lot of ways, but not against this.

"Davo." Leon's voice is low, and still gruff from sleep when he answers his phone. He sits up on his side of the bed, trying not to disturb Matthew, pulling the covers back up over Matthew's shoulder like he thinks he'll freeze to death in this balmy Florida winter.

Usually Matthew's a heavy sleeper. But never when Leon's around. He makes it impossible for Matthew to completely relax, to let time slip by. Leon's just too big of a presence, almost too much to bear. It was more important that everything linger, to bask in the strange comfort of their relationship, whatever it was. They had so little time. Even less, now.

"I know it's late. No, no, I'm not at the hotel. I'm... I'm with Tkachuk."

Leon says his last name like it's wrong, like it's rotting on his tongue.

When he corrects himself, says, "Matthew", it's better, lighter. Like it's ambrosia.

Matthew remembers when Leon Draisaitl saying his name wouldn't have meant a damn thing to him. When that simple act didn't fill him with fondness.

In the silence, Matthew can hear McDavid talking on the other end, but can't quite make out what he's saying. Matthew tucks up under the duvet, breathing quiet and even, trying to focus instead on the distant sound of waves and the ticking clock on his wall.

Ticking. Always ticking. Time bleeds out when they're together.

He doesn't even remember falling asleep last night, but he wishes he hadn't now. He wishes he'd stayed awake longer, just to... just to see him. To look Leon in the eye, to talk about everything and nothing until dawn, to feel big, too-warm hands on his body more and more and more. He wants to make sure he'll remember how Leon feels, sounds, tastes.

"Connor," Leon says, a warning, followed by a sigh. "I know. I know, okay? It was stupid, but..."

Maybe it was. Matthew has a good thing here in Florida. Better than ever. He was happy to leave Alberta behind and start over. So why did leaving make him feel like a coward?

Because leaving was about Calgary, and the Flames. About his career and his future. It wasn't about Leon. Leon was the wrench in the gears; the one thing he didn't expect to have to say goodbye to, the kind of hurt he never could have accounted for.

"I needed to see him." Leon sounds helpless. He's not the only one.

The only time he's heard Leon so lost was after his team was knocked out of the playoffs last season. The Oilers meant nothing--Matthew was pretty fucking glad considering they'd beat out the Flames--but he never wanted to hear Leon like that again.

He definitely never wanted to be the cause of it. Not like this.

Leon is still mumbling into his phone. "Yeah, I'm fine. He's... we're good. He's happy."

A hand settles on Matthew's head. Fingers play with his curls, nails scratch his scalp. A thumb presses just behind Matthew's ear, stroking the soft skin where only hours before Leon had put his lips, whispering sweetness and filth in equal measure.

It takes everything for Matthew not to groan, to whimper and surrender, roll over and climb on top of Leon and take all over again. Beg him to take something--everything--from Matthew.

"I don't know," Leon says then.

It's easy to guess what McDavid asked.

He's happy. But are you?

"I can't even tell him I still love him."

Still. Matthew didn't even know there was a before, let alone a still. Leon never said anything. Fuck, if Matthew wasn't busy trying to remember how to breathe, he'd roll over and punch him.

Then again, what did Matthew ever say? They never talked about it. Never let those closet hook-ups and slipping out back doors and little drinks and dinners and overnights excused as practical necessity be anything more than that. A bunch of chirps and half-truths and aborted discussions because it was all becoming too much. There was too much uncertainty. Too many ways it could go wrong.

It did go wrong. It became something. It became real.

Maybe that would have changed something. Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything at all. It doesn't matter now. Matthew left, and neither of them said a word about things like love, because it was easier to hope it would shrivel and die with distance and time.

"I know I'm being stupid." Leon pauses when McDavid interrupts, then huffs. "No, I am. Fuck, I really thought I'd get over it. Maybe I will. Eventually."

Don't you fucking dare, you piece of shit, Matthew wants to scream.

"Not sure I can, though." Leon swallows so loud Matthew can hear it. Then quieter, like he's not sure he's even allowed to admit it, he says, "I don't really want to."

He's still playing with Matthew's hair, occasionally dragging a finger over his bare shoulder or down his back, tracing imaginary lines across Matthew's flesh. Like he's something to be memorized and cherished.

They're both so fucking stupid. Matthew bites his lip and tries not to choke on the lump in his throat. Could be his heart, climbing right up and out of his mouth. He clings to the sheets with shaking hands.

"I'm not going to fuck up what he's got here," Leon says tiredly, voice thick with tension and pathetic resignation.

Leon's not here to drag him back. He wouldn't do that. So why is he here? Just to torture them both? Being with him doesn't feel like torture. It feels like winning. It feels like defiance and decadence and too much and not enough. It feels like what could have been and what could still be.

He didn't find Leon at that bar and bring him home out of pity, or nostalgia, one last fuck for old times sake. It was... it just was. Not an ending. Not some final goodbye. Proof maybe there could still be something. Getting over it was never an option, Matthew knew that well before he stepped onto the ice as a Panther and found himself staring Leon down all over again.

Matthew's vision is blurring. His eyes sting, warm and wet. There's blood pounding in his ears, and a hand clutching his heart, a vice around his lungs. He hardly remembers how to breathe.

He doesn't catch the rest of Leon's conversation, except something about meeting Connor back at the hotel tomorrow. Meaning he's staying the night, at least. He's staying.

When Leon hangs up the phone, Matthew finally comes up for air. He relaxes his shoulders, listening to the soft thump as Leon taps his phone against his forehead over and over. Then it clatters on the side table. Leon sighs, sniffs, and sinks back under the covers. He tucks right up against Matthew's back, still burning like a furnace, soft muscle and skin brushing Matthew's spine in all the right ways.

He throws an arm around Matthew and finds one of his hands, worming his fingers through the gaps to hold it. His palm is sweaty, not that it matters at all to Matthew. He can't help squeezing Leon's hand a little, but if Leon notices, he doesn't say a word.

Not until he's wrapped tight around Matthew, near suffocating, like any part of them that isn't touching is a sin.

"Love you," Leon mumbles, barely more than a whisper, pressing his lips right to the base of Matthew's neck. Matthew's body can't seem to decide whether to shiver or melt under the heat.

Leon says it like it's inevitable. Painful. Pitiful.

What he's saying is, I'm sorry I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't say it before. I'm sorry I don't know how to say it now. I'm sorry it's too late, it's the wrong place, the wrong time.

Like he doesn't think Matthew could ever understand. And that's the worst part of it all. They're still not on the same page. Tearing down what they never built.

If Leon's only brave enough to say it when Matthew's asleep, then Matthew will just have to be brave enough to say it in the light of day. He doesn't run, and he won't now that he knows he doesn't have to.

He stares into the night outside his window, listening to Leon breathe, feeling his heart beat through Matthew's chest like that's where it longs to be.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow maybe they can stop chasing time long enough to make the most of what they have. To make up for what they've wasted. And whatever happens after, well, maybe they can stop being afraid of that, too.

#hockey #mattdrai #matthew tkachuk #leon draisaitl #my writing #asks #i can take any prompt and shove angst into it just watch me #'mutual pining dumbasses who can't communicate' my beloved trope #i hope it's obvious this is happening during/right after the 2023 asg #i know 2020 was the sacred texts but I feel like we don't use 2023 for mattdrai purposes enough #poor connor always suffering through mattdrai bullshit #leon has a scrapbook full of pictures of matthew and will be like 'remember when my bf left me ;_;' and connor wants to jump off a bridge #'mini' fic they said. i don't think 1.6k is mini. it got away from me. but i have never been concise in my life why start now

[triasticalwarlock]

So, I'm ashamed to say I am officially having a sonic faze. I don't know how I got here. I came across a really cool piece of art of dark sonic. And there it was, that little fucking tingle, that little thing you get when ever you look at a fictional character you've liked for, well, a few years. And it comes running back, and you feel like a miserable son of a bitch... because you like THIS DUDE.

Where did I go wrong? I was perfectly fine with hazbin hotel, and the mother fucker called Adam. Also, due to this, I'm starting to realize a pattern. The characters I liked in the past: Leon from pokemon, sonic the hedgehog, bill cipher, Stanford pines, secret history tails, Adam the first man. Am I the only one seeing a pattern? I AM FOR SOME REASON ATTRACTED TO EGOTISTICAL LITTLE SHITS.

Why do I love this mobian? I honestly don't know, prideful man that is reckless and enjoys danger? Doesn't show much vurnability around people, but that one person(us)? I don't know, don't bother asking. But, it could be that it's a hero, with the ability to snap.

I'm talking about this version of the dude. I don't know why, but when ever I see this motherfucker, I feel something. It's like something is stirring my stomach, but in a good way. I don't know how to describe it, all I can say is that it makes me giddy and makes me kick my feet. It's like, cuteness aggression. And, honestly, I want him to baby me in this form. Imagine, the usual calm and looked up to hero, cupping your face and saying something in a baby tone (i think I've been reading to much Lucifer). Also, this has nothing to due with me wanting this man to ram me in. But to the people out there who still think that dark sonic would hurt his friends, get a service dog. Because you clearly blind. The reason sonic ever even turned dark mode was because his friends got hurt, what makes you think he'd intentionally harm them? I needed to say this, because the amount of art I run into that shows dark sonic about to hurt his friends, usually amy or tails, is pissing me off. Service dogs people, service dogs.

And, just a bunch of things of sonic, because I can.

Silly goose

#sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #anime sonic #sonic the hedgehog #dark sonic #dark sonic x reader #dark sonic the hedgehog #dark sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic x you #bill cipher #leon #secret history tails #Adam the first man #Adam hazbin hotel #Adam #sonic X #Stanford pines #gravity falls #hazbin hotel #pokemon #pokemon leon #why #im not ok

[nuge]

utterly obsessed with each other

leon draisaitl | RAW | 09/07/2023

#leon draisaitl #connor mcdavid #in spirit #mcdrai #edmonton oilers #oilers lb #perlinigif #thank god hockey is back so these weirdos can pine and wax poetics about each other again

[msmargaretmurry]

Mini fic 13. things you said at the kitchen table would be fun for matthew and leon, because another pair of my blorbos have several Important Scenes in the kitchen, so seeing how that setting is used for others is nice!

as i'm sure everyone has forgotten by now, eons ago i was doing this writing meme, and so many lovely folks left me prompts that i never got to because grad school destroyed my ability to write. but i am trying to get back in a creative groove so we're resurrecting it. so thank you for your patience/sorry about the wait i guess?? 😂 anway —

13. things you said at the kitchen table

“There you are.”

The kitchen had been so quiet that Leon jumps, looking up from his phone to see Matthew leaning in the doorway, eyebrows knit together with a frown. He’s bare-chested, barefoot, wearing the gray sweatpants that had been folded on top of Leon’s hamper, worn once but not dirty enough to put through the wash yet. There’s an array of teeth marks and mouth-shaped bruises down his torso, just starting to bloom with color. If he turned around, Leon knows, there would be a matching constellation on the back of his hip, disappearing under the waistband.

Leon tends to lose himself in the moment. Sometimes it’s a little embarrassing to see what he’s done afterwards.

Matthew tilts his head. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Leon looks at his phone again, somewhere in the middle of a mindless scroll through Instagram, then sets it aside. “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep.”

“Coulda woken me up,” Matthew says, that cocky little grin of his tugging at one corner of his mouth. “I woulda tired you back out.” He’s crossing the room as he says this, ignoring Leon’s eye-roll, pulling out a chair to sit down across from him. Elbows on the table, eyebrows raised. The only time he’s stopped looking smug all night is when Leon had him gasping and panting and moaning too hard to look anything but desperate. Which is stupid, because his team kind of got destroyed earlier, but maybe his face is just kind of stuck that way.

Leon doesn’t really get Matthew at all. He likes him well enough — a surprising enough thing on its own, and one that Leon is still reluctant to cop to sometimes. But there’s something impenetrable about him. He always leaves Leon feeling off-balance. Something about the way he walks into every room like there’s no reason he wouldn’t belong there, including Leon’s kitchen. 

The sex is great, though.

Matthew hasn’t spent the night before, but not for any real reason. Just lack of opportunity. Leon usually likes sharing a bed when he has the chance. 

Matthew nudges his foot under the table. “Hey.”

Leon blinks at him. “What?”

“You sure you’re awake?”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ awake,” Leon says, and kicks him back.

“Well then act like it,” Matthew says, catching Leon’s ankle briefly between his feet. “Is everything okay?”

Leon opens his mouth to say yes, but then he takes a moment to consider the situation, and instead he says, “This is a little weird, isn’t it? You and me at the kitchen table?”

“Well, it’s not my fault we’re not still in bed.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“I think it’s mostly weird because it’s the middle of the night.” The way that Matthew’s curls fall in his face is distracting. Makes Leon think about how they feel tangled in his fingers. He’d be disappointed if Matthew ever cut his hair short. “You know I’m leaving at the end of the season, right?”

This startles Leon more than Matthew’s sudden appearance two minutes ago. “What?”

“Contract’s up. Bye-bye Calgary.” Matthew shrugs with an extremely measured amount of awkwardness. That— that’s why he’s so fucking confusing. Even his sincerity feels like an act sometimes. But even more than that—

“Why?”

“It’s too fucking cold, I’m homesick, and my coach hates me.”

“No, mean— really, he does?”

Another shrug. So helpful.

“I mean, why are you telling me this?”

“I’m trying to make you pay attention to me,” Matthew says. “Geez, why do you think I’m here?”

Leon raises his eyebrows. “You didn’t get enough attention earlier?”

A tiny grin. “No.”

“So where are you going?”

“Dunno yet.”

“Is that true or are you just not telling me?”

Another shrug. A slightly larger, smugger grin.

“You think I’ll miss you?”

“Nah. You’ve got Davo to keep you warm.”

“We’re not—” Leon ignores Matthew’s dancing eyebrows. “Seriously, why are you telling me this?”

Matthew kicks his foot under the table again. “Come back to bed. We’ve got, what, two games left this season? I’m trying to get the fuckin’ in while I still can.”

“So you’re going somewhere far away,” Leon says.

“Dude, you’re in Edmonton,” Matthew says. “Everywhere is far away.”

“I meant, like, out of the conference.”

Shrug. The temptation to reach across and hold Matthew’s shoulders still is so strong. Instead Leon just meets his gaze, trying for the umpteenth time to figure him out. It doesn’t work, so he looks again at the collage of bruises spilling over his collar bone. He’s changed, in the couple of years they’ve been doing this. His body used to be wirier, but now he’s starting to fill out like a grown man. Leon can feel it on the ice, when he hits him, and in bed when he fucks him. He used to be wilder, more immature, more willing to sacrifice the play to be annoying, but he’s honed that down to an art. Whatever team gets him is going to be blown away by what they find behind his reputation. And Leon— well. It’s strange to feel so acutely that in the grand scheme of things he’ll just be an anecdote in Matthew’s life. It doesn’t bother him, exactly. It’s just a strange little moment. He’d thought, maybe stupidly, that they’d be doing this for years to come. Battles of Alberta and all that. But somehow it makes a lot more sense this way.

“Come on,” he says, standing abruptly. He catches Matthew by the arm on his way around the table, pulling him along back toward the bedroom. Matthew shakes the grip off, but catches his hand instead. In bed, he kisses Leon like he means it, but there are a lot of ways to mean something.

#writing meme #matthew and leon #hockey for ts #frida at least i know you've been PLENTY busy with the weewoo show and have NOT been pining away waiting for a response to your prompt 😂❤ #anyway in my head this is spiritually in the in from the cold 'verse even tho i'm not sure if all the details match up

[froggibus]

A Moment of Hesitation - Leon Kennedy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x F! reader

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining??

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: leon has always kept you at arms length in order to protect you, but after leading the two of you into a trap, the cracks start to show and feelings come to light

CW: kidnapping, violence, gun violence, knife violence, bindings (reader and Leon are tied up with ropes), interrogation + interrogation techniques (including torture), reader shoots someone (self defense), drugging, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, love confessions, leon and reader are coworkers, somewhere between RE2 and RE4 leon

you guys were warned ahead of time lol. this started after i watched criminal minds and my hand slipped and suddenly i had 3k words and had to finish it. kind of my first shot at writing anything like this (slightly inspired by my mammon fic tho) so sorry if there's pacing issues. enjoy <3

————

Leon knows he messed up when he wakes to a bucket of water on his face and ropes holding his hands behind his back. Three men haul him to his feet, holding him up even when his knees buckle. How did he even get here..? Wasn’t he on a mission with you—he freezes in his tracks.

Where were you? He squints his eyes, desperately looking for you in the dark room. He feels relief for only a second when he sees your crumpled form on the ground, bound in the same way he is before his blood runs cold. You shouldn’t be here.

It was supposed to be a simple mission: investigate a supposedly abandoned Umbrella Facility for more information on their newest BOW. Of course, nothing can ever go right for Leon S Kennedy, and somewhere along the way, noxious gas was released throughout the lab you were in. He had tried to push you out of the room, not caring what happens to himself as long as you’re safe, but seeing you here means you must not have gotten away.

He clenches his jaw in frustration. Ever since he realized he had feelings for you, he just wanted to protect you. Sometimes that meant taking on the harder missions alone, and when he couldn’t, he was watching you like a hawk. This was supposed to be easy, though, and he let his guard down. A major fuck up on his end.

Another man, another Umbrella lackey, emerges behind you, yanking you up by your bindings. Leon growls, instinctively moving towards you before being tugged by the men holding him. A woman in a lab coat splashes water in your face and you begin to stir.

You wake up wet, frigid water dripping down your face and running over your eyelids. You try to open your eyes only for the water to pour into them. It stings, and you reach out to wipe your eyes dry only to realize your hands are being held behind you. 

“What the—“

“Nice of you to join us,” a woman’s voice echoes off the damp walls of the room you’re being held in. 

Your eyes adjust to the water and the darkness and you manage to make out a few things. One, is that you’re in a small room, most likely underground from the dank smell. Secondly is that you’re restrained and the gun that was once tucked into your hip holster is gone. Thirdly is Leon, who’s watching you with concern, three men holding him back from running to you. 

Right, you remember. There was gas in the room, and everything had gotten all foggy and dizzy. Leon had tried to push you out, you realize, and you had gotten out until you tried to drag him out of the room and passed out along with him. 

Leon glances at you and you cringe under his gaze. His sacrifice was for nothing given that you’re standing here with him. He should have known that you never would have left without him. 

“Mr Kennedy,” the woman crows, dark lips curling upwards. “Care to enlighten us on what you and your friend were doing in my lab?”

Leon frowns, “that’s none of your business.”

“That’s unfortunate,” she sighs, and signals to the man holding you, “I guess we’ll have to use other means to find out.”

The man drops you, letting you fall face first on the ground. You manage to land on your chest just before you hit and save yourself a broken nose. 

Leon strains against his captors, screaming for you, “don’t you fucking dare—“

“Don’t I dare what, Mr Kennedy?”

He growls, jaw set hard as he narrows his eyes on the woman. But she’s right. He can’t do anything to help you in his current position, and he has absolutely no fucking clue how to get you out of this. So, he shuts up. 

“That’s what I thought,” she smirks at his silence. “Now will you tell us?”

You guys share a look and you can see the conflict in his eyes. You know he can’t tell them, even if it means sacrificing you. But you can’t help but think that if you were in his position, you’d tell them anything they wanted to know. You’d burn the whole fucking world down for him. 

She takes his prolonged silence as a ‘no’ and gestures at the man behind you. A boot meets the back of your head and you’re sent sprawling face first on the ground. The sole of his shoe plants itself on your cheek and grinds against it so hard you swear you hear cracking. 

“Get your—“ Leon manages to land an elbow to the face of one of his captors. “Get your fucking hands off of her!”

You spit dirt on the ground and glare at the man above you. He grins back and the sight makes your stomach churn. 

Leon is seething, his heart pounding worse than it ever has. “If you hurt her,” he says in a low voice, “there won’t be a place on heaven or earth you could hide from me.”

You’ve never found Leon so scary. Threatening, sure. But even when he’s interrogating people and shooting zombies, you’ve never felt the chill that you do now. The man holding you down must feel it, too, because he suddenly retracts his boot from your face. 

Still, in different circumstances, in different contexts, his words would make you shiver. You try to shake the thoughts away. It’s because you’re his partner, y/n. Nothing else. Leon doesn’t see you that way. 

The scientist woman, clearly dissatisfied with Leon’s silence, recalls her lackeys and slams the metal door behind her. As soon as Leon hears footsteps rescinding, he’s dropping to his knees next to you. 

“Y/n,” he whispers, “y/n, get up.”

You whine, trying to sit up without your hands. Leon can hardly watch as you manage to prop yourself up on your chest and eventually fall back on your knees. 

“Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?”

You shake your head, keeping your voice quiet,“I don’t…I don’t think so. Nothing aside from what you saw, at least.”

He seems to relax at that, shoulders sinking down from his ears. He wants more than anything to reach out and wipe the dirt off of your face, to check every inch of your skin and make sure you’re okay. 

“I-I think I know a way to get us out of this, okay?” He shuffles closer to you until his knees are against yours, “but you have to trust me.”

“I trust you with my life, Leon.”

His chest warms at your words but it’s short lived. “They took my gun but I still have my knife in my pocket,” he breathes, “I just need you to grab it and we can cut the ropes. Can you do that?”

“I-I think so,” you nod, turning around so that your hands face his front. 

You lean back, fingertips reaching out for his pocket. Leon leans into your touch, pressing his pants against your hand. He gasps when your fingers brush across his crotch and you freeze in your tracks. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he grunts, “just—a little more to the left.”

You somehow manage to get the knife from his pocket and flick it open. Leon moves his head down until he can clench his teeth around the hilt, ducking down until the blade is level with your bindings. 

“Stay perfectly still,” he mumbles around the knife. 

You try but it’s cold and you’re sore and he’s so damn close to you. Still, you manage, and soon enough you start to feel the bindings release until you can pull your hands free. 

You hold them out in front of you and rub at your raw wrists, the red skin aching from where the ropes dug in. You turn to face Leon, taking the knife from his mouth and wiping his spit on your pants. 

“Turn around,” you whisper. 

He obeys your command, turning so that his back is facing you and his ropes are level with your hands. Your hands shake with every movement but you manage to saw through the rope and release him.

He gasps in relief, letting the tattered nylon fall to the ground. “Alright,” he stands up on shaky legs, “now to get out of here.”

You try to follow suit, pressing your hands against the floor to try and force yourself onto your shaking legs. You manage to get one leg up but as you stand, you pitch forwards. 

Leon anticipates your fall before it even happens and catches you. “You alright?”

“The gas must not be out of my system,” you shake your head, “I can walk. I’ll be fine.”

You prop yourself up on his shoulder and push off, stumbling a bit before getting your footing. Leon watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to stand before approaching the sealed door. 

He tugs on it and though the metal whines, it doesn’t budge. He pushes it and the metal gives way, opening to a dark corridor. You think of making a joke about him pulling a push door, but bite your tongue. Now is not the time. 

Leon surprises you by grabbing your hand and leading you up the hallway. “Do you have my knife?” He asks. “We don’t know what could be lurking around these halls.”

“Yeah—do you want it?”

“No,” he shakes his head, blond hair flopping in his face, “you hang on to it.” I’d rather you be protected. 

You reach the end of the hall and Leon pulls you to the left where more light seems to be coming from a staircase. There’s noises up ahead—just a shuffling of footsteps—but it has Leon instinctively tugging you closer to him. 

You’re so close you can feel the warmth radiating off of his back and his heart beating in his chest. “Leon,” you say, pointing towards a shadow being cast from the top of the stairs. 

He nods once, taking the stairs one step at a time, anticipating some sort of horrific BOW. Instead, it’s one of the men from earlier. Not just any man—the one who had stepped on you. 

Leon can hardly contain his anger as he drops your hand and sneaks up behind him, wrapping an arm around his neck. He holds his head with one hand and uses his forearm to cut off his oxygen, and even after the man goes limp, Leon holds on. 

You watch with wide eyes, not sure if you should intervene or not. He's hostile, after all, and he did step on your face. You don’t have to jump into action, though, because Leon sees the look on your face and gently lowers the unconscious man to the floor. 

“Asshole,” he spits, and reaches for your hand again, “come on, we must be close to an exit.”

You place your hand in his and run your thumb gently across the back of it. A simple, silent gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by Leon; a gesture that calms the fire inside him. 

“I—do you think it’s only the guys from earlier?” You ask. 

“I’d like to think so, but we should still be on guard…” I don’t want to lead you into another trap. 

Leon swallows hard. You’re so close to him, he can feel you breathing. All he wants is to make sure you’re okay, really okay, and to hold you until you calm down. But he can’t do that, not until he gets you out of here at least. And even then, would you let him? He’s kept you at arms length for so long, would you even be willing to come closer?

It sure feels like it when you’re practically leaning against him the entire way through the halls. 

“Leon,” you whisper, and when he doesn’t answer, you tug on his arm. “Leon!”

He jerks backwards, almost knocking you into a wall in the process. “What?”

You jab your finger towards two more shadows up ahead. It must be the remaining men from earlier. His eyes go wide, his lips forming an ‘o’ shape when they follow your gaze. 

“You get the one on the right, I’ll get the one on the left. Okay? On three, two, one—“

You lunge forwards, brandishing the hilt of the knife. You smack the base of the hilt directly against the man’s head as hard as you can, and he crumples to the floor. Leon raises an eyebrow at your tactics from where he’s choking out the other guard, and you swear you see him smile. 

You dig around in the man’s pockets, only to find your gun. You nudge his face with your foot, “fucker,” and click the safety off. 

Leon lays the man on the ground, turning back to speak to you just as the final man leaps out from behind a corner. He’s holding Leon’s pistol, but before he can even shoot, there’s a hole in his head and your handgun is smoking. 

Leon looks at you, then at the man, then back at you. “Y/n,” he breathes, bewildered. 

“Don’t let your guard down, remember?” You try to quip, but your voice and hands are shaking. 

Not because you just shot a man, no. You’ve had to subdue more than a few hostiles in your line of work. No—you’re shaking because had you been a second slower, or your aim a bit worse, Leon would be dead right now. 

You swallow your feelings down. You can deal with them when you get out. For now, escape is all you need to focus on. 

Leon picks up his pistol from the man and waits for you to cross the room to him. He can’t hold your hand now, not with his gun, but you’re still close enough that he can feel you. 

He tries to ignore the way his face heats up at the contact. 

—

It takes several more hallways before you’re back in the room you got gassed in, and then twenty minutes from there, but you finally get out. 

It’s dark out, the sun having dipped down below the horizon hours ago, and the breeze bites despite being in a desert. You shiver, rubbing your bare arms. 

The moonlight illuminates Leon’s face, letting you see the bruise that covers his cheek bone and the dirt all over his skin. Still, he’s as beautiful as ever. 

He raises a hand to your face. There’s a small gash from where you hit the ground earlier, a streak of blood down your face. “This looks bad,” he moves his hand down to your jaw, looking at you seriously. “We’ll have to clean it once we get back to the motel.”

“O-okay,” butterflies erupt in your stomach under his touch. 

The walk to the car isn’t long, but the silence makes it seem much worse. Warmth lingers on your face from where Leon had touched you, and you find yourself rubbing at it. He’s being so gentle now—but why?

It’s not like he wasn’t before, but it was never like this. So what could explain the change in behavior? Was it guilt? Gratitude? Did he resent himself for the fact he couldn’t bring himself to leak secret government information to save your life, or did he want to thank you for saving him? Both? Neither?

The enigma makes your head spin, and the only thing you’re sure of is the warmth in your face and the butterflies in your stomach. 

Even the drive back to the motel is strangely silent, Leon occasionally glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking. Examining your wound, you assume. It’s a lot more than that for Leon, though. He needs to make sure you’re okay. That you’re alive and safe and out of harm's way. Harm that he put you in.

It’s a miracle for him that he could even drive back to the motel with the way his thoughts raced. Still, he gets you there safe and sound, and suddenly the two of you are stepping out of the car on shaky legs.

“Are you—do you need help?” He asks.

You don’t want to admit it, and on a good day you wouldn’t. But this wasn’t a good day, and you do need help. You think about it for a second, and nod. 

The position you fall into with Leon is only natural for the two of you. Something you’ve done on countless missions when one or the other or both of you got injured. An arm around your waist, an arm around his, leaning your body weights on each other. Stumbling desperately for your hotel room in the dark. If anyone saw you now, they’d probably just assume you’re a couple on vacation that had a few too many.

If only they knew how complicated it really was.

Leon has to release his arm from you to dig through the pocket of his pants for the keycard, but he lets you rest your full body weight on him in the meantime. You relax on him, the warmth and scent and curves of his body the only familiar thing in the world.

The lock turns green and clicks, letting Leon push the door open and help you into the room. You’re almost relieved to see the double beds and feel the brisk air conditioning. The only thing that would make it better is if it were your own bed.

Leon clearly shares your sentiment, kicking off his boots and leaping onto the mattress, “what a sight for sore eyes.”

You sit on the edge of your bed, slowly taking off your combat boots one at a time and spending way too much time fiddling with the shoelaces. “Tell me about it.”

You almost laugh at the words that just left your mouth. It’s just a figure of speech, but there really is something you want him to tell you about. You want to ask him about his sudden closeness and the mission and the brush with death and above all, his hesitation earlier. 

A part of you knows why. He doesn’t want you to die, you’re his partner, but you know and you’ve always known, the job comes first. You might be willing to sacrifice everything for him, but he can’t do the same. 

“We need to clean your face,” Leon sits up suddenly, the rustling of his clothes catching your attention. “It’ll get infected otherwise.”

You don’t feel like doing anything right now except for laying down and staring at the ceiling, but you know he’s right. You begrudgingly follow him to the bathroom. He’s already unpacking his first aid kit, digging out antiseptic spray, cotton pads and a bandaid. 

Like every other time you’ve done this, you settle on the counter in front of him. It’s such a familiar feeling that it’s almost bitter. He wets a cloth with warm water and starts to wipe off the dirt and blood on your face. You flinch under his touch, the wound stinging with the water.

“What’s on your mind, doll?” His voice is soft, calm. Nothing like it was earlier when you were being stepped on. The contrast makes you shiver.

You feel like you’ve been here a million times but at the same time, everything feels different. “It’s been a long day,” you say quietly, “for both of us.”

He wets a cotton pad with antiseptic and starts to dab it across the cut. “We’ve had longer days.”

You don’t say anything to that, clenching your teeth together to keep from hissing in pain. You never do get used to the burn of cleaning wounds.

“Seriously, what is it?” He looks at you seriously.

“I feel like I’m going insane, Leon.”

He gently presses the bandaid to your wound, dropping his hands from your forehead to your forearms. “Why?”

“I—” your skin practically burns where he’s touching you. “It’s everything. It–it’s me and it’s you and the mission and my feelings and—God, we’re partners Leon, we’re partners and I’m going to fuck it all up.”

The way you say partners lingers in the air. You choke on the word like it’s painful, like it’s a curse, some sort of vile thing that haunts you. And in a way, it is. Your partnership with Leon has long been a curse complicated by your own feelings. 

His brow furrows, “what are you…?”

“I would sacrifice everything for you. And I know I shouldn’t feel this way and it’s stupid and it’s selfish but…” You can feel tears pricking your lashes. 

“But what?” 

“Why won’t you do the same? You hesitated—earlier, you hesitated. You weren’t going to talk.” You burst into tears at the end of your sentence, the horrors from the day coming back to haunt you.

Your feelings are so overwhelming that they drown you. Your sadness and heartbreak and fear, and your anger and resentment. The bitter feeling whenever you’re reminded that Leon is your partner, nothing more. 

Leon squeezes your arms gently, trying to get your attention. “Y/n,” he sighs, “look at me. Please.”

When you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, he slowly moves a hand to your face and wipes your tears away. His hand catches your jaw, tilting your chin up until your eyes are level with his. The way the tears catch on your lashes make the world look like a stained glass window, Leon the most beautiful mosaic you’ve ever seen. 

“You need to understand,” his voice is soft, “I didn’t hesitate because I don’t care about you. I hesitated because I do. I keep my distance because I care about you so much, it scares me. Y/n, I would let the whole fucking world burn if it meant keeping you warm.”

His words stun you. They leave you warm and dizzy and lightheaded, your heart pounding against your ribcage, your skin burning under his touch. It’s all so confusing, so overwhelming. This whole time, did he really feel the same way?

“I meant what I said, doll. If someone hurt you, there wouldn’t be a place in the universe where they’d be safe from me.”

You’re staring at him and he’s staring back. His eyes have always been his most expressive feature, and right now they’re telling you exactly what you want. The warmth they hold, the concern and the affection, it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Leon…”

He leans in, ghosting his lips on yours. Heat spreads through your body. “We’re partners,” he whispers against you, and somehow that word sounds less venomous than it ever has.

“Partners,” you repeat, your lips catching on his as the words leave your mouth.

He presses his lips on yours harder, moving his hand from your face to the back of your head, holding you against him. He’s needy and desperate for your touch, as if he’s trying to keep you with him forever. And he is.

“Partner,” he mumbles, moving his lips down to your collarbone. “My partner. My brilliant, brilliant partner.”

You shiver at his touch and his words, the moment so raw and intimate it makes you wonder how long he’s wanted to do this. 

“My brilliant partner,” he pulls away, staring directly into your eyes, “so brilliant she couldn’t even see I was in love with her.”

“I—” you start to say but the words fail you.

Leon strokes your hair, planting a kiss to the bandaid on your forehead. “I know,” he says. “I know.”

He pulls away from you and grabs your hand, helping you off of the counter and leading you to bed. Both of you are still in your uniforms—a mess of vests and cargo pants and holsters. It’s a slow process to discard the most uncomfortable parts, but it’s worth it when you’re left in just a plain white t-shirt and underwear. There’s angry red marks on your skin from where the straps were. 

You shyly look over at Leon who is dressed the same way you are. His shirt and skin are still dirty, and you’re sure you are too, but you don’t care. It doesn’t matter now.

All that matters is you and Leon, and the way he lays on the bed and waits for you to lay next to him. The way he draws you in, your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating. The way he means everything to you, and you mean even more to him. 

#leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #resident evil 2 #resident evil #resident evil fluff #resident evil angst #resident evil 4 #hurt/comfort #mutual pining #angst #fluff #re2 remake #re2 x reader #re4 leon #re2 leon

[azul-marie]

leon. (desiderate)

fem. reader. canon-typical violence/injuries mentioned.

if only you’d been beside him a second sooner.

the surrounding ganados were resolute in killing the two of you, but so far you’d handled everything well. he took the front, you, the back. it was going fine enough, up until a creature welding a machete managed to land a clean slice across the side of his abdomen, easily cutting through the flesh. your partner’s pained sounds were a nightmare on the ears.

once that damned church bell finally rang upon safety could you take cover in an abandoned home to check whatever damage was done.

now another challenge began.

“please, just let me see how bad it is.” your pleas are no match for stubbornness. leon waves you off, pretending that he isn’t holding a bleeding wound. his beautiful jacket, a favorite of his, he had told you on the way to the village, stains his hand a bright scarlet. he lingers by a window to keep watch outside, his handsome face scrunched with discomfort.

“it’s fine. i’m fine. focus on yourself first.” his reply is curt, slightly winded. his broad chest heaves as he applies more pressure on his injury, his jaw setting tightly to avoid letting out a moan of pain. you watch helplessly, unused to the view of your calm, confident partner so hurt.

the two of you hadn’t been partners for long, but something akin to a friendship was undoubtedly there. his odd quips, the occasional joke that would usually cause eye rolling and groans were actually rather charming coming from a man of his reputation — you took them in stride, bouncing off of his personality as if you’d known each other all your lives.

but there is a certain coldness to leon. an inner frost, like a perpetual twist of the brows stuck in thought, or eyes heavy with a lack of heart. clear reminders of whatever he’s gone through before meeting you. perhaps it’s the innate good you sense from him that encourages the desire to know him, befriend him. a goodness that is such he’d prefer bleeding out if it meant saving you first.

you gather your courage. with cautious steps you approach his side, place a benign hand on his bicep that silently insists. at first, leon refuses to look your way. he's all too aware of those doe eyes you’re making at him — knows it’ll get him weak in the knees. the touch on his arm is already making it harder to breathe.

“leon…” —god, do you have to say his name so softly like that?— “i’m not hurt. i’m worried about you. just let me take a look so i can help ease the pain. please.”

his eyes flicker down to yours before he can stop himself. fuck. those pretty eyes, brows turned up with concern, flutter when they meet his. leon’s jaw goes slack, and he swallows so hard he’s certain he gulps aloud.

“okay…okay. i surrender.” he says, a hint of humor lacing in. “sorry to have made you beg.”

your unease melts into a beaming smile. “as long as it paid off.”

after finding the most stable looking chair in the house, leon peels off his beloved jacket on the one side he’s hurt, exposing the weeping cut caked with a mix of dried and fresh blood. he at least looks a little sheepish to have insisted he was fine, when he was, in fact, not very fine at all.

you cringe at the sight, deterring any ogling leon would've preferred to see instead. you carefully lift his skin-tight shirt to examine the cut further. the feel of your smooth fingers gliding across his bare skin sends a wave of gooseflesh over every inch of him. he reminds himself he’s a professional, not a schoolboy.

“i’m…i’m sorry, but, ew. aside from that, it’s actually not too deep. a good cleaning should help, since that blade was probably really unsanitary. then i’ll bandage you up. sounds good?”

leon is quiet. concerned, you glance upwards to check on him, only to find he’s already staring at you. something hot clenches at your chest. his eyes fall to your parted lips for a split second before realizing you’ve stopped talking.

“yeah.” he mindlessly agrees. it is incredibly obvious to the both of you that he hasn’t heard a word you said. you kindly choose to ignore it, mostly because it’s cute. and because he’s probably lost a bit of blood while he was being stubborn. not to mention he was nearly sawed in half by a literal creature of darkness, too. something like that would take a moment to process.

“i’ll clean you up, then bandage the cut. sounds good?” you repeat slowly, trying to also kindly ignore how his eyes switch between your eyes and lips. leon nods, then looks away in silent complacency to let you do what you need to. and to steady himself when your hands run down the expanse of his abdomen to check for any other injuries he may have sustained.

he wonders how you’ve managed to keep such soft, supple hands. how they press just the right amount of pressure, not too much or too little. the first aid spray, nor the herbs you mix and crush into a salve hardly sting when you massage them across his wound. all the while your eyes, those pretty eyes, gleam with pure concentration as you work to heal him. help him. without ulterior motives, without asking for anything in return.

guilt overtakes him. to have you mend him despite his being perfectly capable feels selfish. reminds him of naivety and red. longings of the past. you two were already in over your heads, and now this? having you coddle him? leon’s hardly deserving. hardly worth your effort. he wasn’t the priority at this point, even if he made the promise to get all three of you back home safe. there were risks, dangers, that either of you could succumb to, but he’d be damned before letting anything happen to you. as long as you stuck together, nothing would.

“you with me, ace?”

your whisper jolts him out of thought. leon appears struck, as if forgetting you’re sat beside him, pressing bandages along his abdomen. your perplexed expression wakes him from his inner rumination. makes him think his own face is twisted in the way it gets whenever he’s too far deep in his mind.

leon takes a beat to answer. “uh…yeah. all good. sorry about that.”

“no need to apologize. i know it’s a lot to take in. i’m just worried about that handsome face of yours.”

he freezes, his dark thoughts at once evaporating. “my—what?”

you turn slightly bashful. “oh, well, you know. if you keep making the same kind of face, it’ll get stuck that way. i just…well, it would be a shame if yours did. you’re really quite nice on the eyes, leon.”

he gapes at you, stunned silent by your boldness. and what more it could imply. these sorts of compliments are nothing he’s not used to, clearly, but coming from you? the first person to mean something to him in years?

leon feels his face going hot. shit. he clears his throat, shifts in his creaking seat. prays he isn’t blushing as badly as he thinks he is. you manage to catch his fleeting eyes for a second. he watches how your lush lips turn up with an amused smile so poorly hidden he almost thinks you wanted him to notice — and just like that, he’s properly flustered.

he isn’t allowed to collect himself. soon you’re patting off whatever excess salve remains on his skin and tugging his shirt back down over freshly set bandages, held together by even more prayers and a bit of medical tape. you’re up and on your feet before leon can even pierce together the concept of thanking you.

you head to the nearest window for a quick peek outside. “looks like the villagers are still in the church. it’s all clear for now, unless they decide to cut service short.” you muse. leon joins you, carefully readjusting his jacket and his cool.

“don’t jinx us.” he huffs. “last thing we need is another run in with trouble. we should start looking for ashley now that things are quiet.”

you agree. after one last weapons and supplies check, you lead the way towards the front door to brave whatever awaits the two of you ahead. before you finish twisting the doorknob, he pats an awkward hand on your shoulder.

leon says your name intently. “…i appreciate your help. very much.” he hesitates, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. you can still see a bloom of pink across his cheeks. “so…thanks. i owe you one.”

you pat his shoulder in return with a mellow smile. “of course, leon. it’s why i’m here. i am your favorite partner after all.” you joke, turning the moment he lets out a chuckle. you miss the way his eyes soften as he takes in the pretty view of you.

“true. but it’s not like you had much competition in the first place.”

“ha-ha. if you’re saying i win by default, then that’s just fine by—”

the moment the two of you step outside, an incoming call from hunnigan interrupts the lighthearted atmosphere. the sudden intrusion turns leon’s face somber once more, though he glances somewhat apologetically at you before answering.

no matter, you think. there’s plenty of time to spare for team-bonding.

#resident evil 4 imagines #re4 imagines #resident evil imagines #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy imagine #i want to flirt with leon sooo bad LOL #i just love seeing him shy 🤩 is it ooc? perhaps. do i care? of course not!!! #pining leon is the best #give this man some longing and i’m set #may or may not be the prequel to luis’s sweet talk 👀

[corpsoir]

Heritage Februabba 2023

Day 2: Food || Pining

@heritage-februabba

#look guys theyre eating squid pasta and arugula salad . head in hands #gave them the gucci fits for fun :] also abbacchio is pathetic and i hate the colour of his jacket combined with his blue hair #sorry baby i love you but you look insane #heritagefebruabba23 #food pining #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #bruabba #bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio #vento aureo #golden wind #jjba fanart #corps.art

[souslamer]

i have an insatiable yearning for stupid immortals just. experiencing life. through the years,,,,, and also being HORRENDOUSLY smitten for each other

#ineffable husbands #dreamling #merlin #in those fics where it’s just him and leon and he’s literally pining after arthur the whole time #UGH #love them #crowley #aziraphale #morpheus #dream of the endless #hob gadling #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #immortal leon

[citrine-elephant]

thinking about chris and leon, on their own, being grumpy and miserable

but when they're around each other it's that chaotic kind of friendship where you're up at ungodly hours cackling over the stupidest shit bcuz you're sleep deprived

and then they're yelled at to shut the fuck up cuz other people are trying to sleep-

#chreon #resident evil shipping nonsense #it can be both platonic and romantic! #the single depressed braincells combine to cancel each other out #then it's one adhd braincell #all im thinking of is leon trying to get chris to lose his fuckin shit with each dumb oneliner #and thinking of claire teasing chris about how the two giggle with each other like they're dating #will also think of purely platonic bro cuddles #cant decide if i like to romantically ship them or just like them being very very close friends #leon sleeping on chris like the cat he is... #chris bear hugs #i am sleepy and pining for happiness lol

[damianabsinthe]

Psychic Sobriety Chapter Six

18+ Chapter! MDNI

If you're just here for the smut, I recommend reading chapter five first

Or, start from the beginning here

Chapter tags: Explicit Sexual content!! Fucking while pining, creampie, overstimulation,

Words: 2,918

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Leon was enjoying his time with your pussy. It tasted amazing- like your natural scent, mixed with soap and sweat. He licked the salt off your skin like a dying man marooned in the ocean. He desperately wanted you to ride his face- another time, maybe. Today was about proving to you that he was good enough to be a worthwhile partner. That you could go to bed sated each night from his touch alone. 

            He ate you out passionately, using every single skill he had to get you off. There was no scenario he would let happen where you finished the night unsatisfied. Where you finish the night being disappointed. Maybe even regretful. He couldn’t let that happen. You gave him the gift of being a fuck buddy, and he would return the favor by making love. 

            You moaned excitedly, seemingly happy about what he was doing. He quickly found a rhythm you liked, judging by your noises. He repeated the motions with his tongue, before inching two fingers into your pussy. He curled them while licking your clit, creating a spark of pleasure that flew through you. 

“Oh my god, Leon, I’m going to…” You trailed off. He kept at the same speed and intensity as waves passed through you. Your cunt clenched around his fingers, while he worked them into you, riding you through your orgasm. As soon as you stopped moving, he pulled them out of you. He gives you a few moments to catch your breath.

”That… that was wonderful.” You breathe, boneless. 

”Who says it’s over yet? We’ve only just begun.” he chuckled. Your eyes widened before he went down to kiss you again, with more passion than before. Last time, he had forgotten his place and kissed you with his feelings- the tender ones. He couldn’t let that happen again. He couldn’t take this any further than you wanted. He put his hand on your wet cunt, feeling the remnants of your orgasm. 

“What a beautiful pussy,” He breathed hard through kissing you. “Would love to feel myself in it.” You twitched. He grabbed your hand and put it between his still-clothed legs so you could feel his length. “You feel that, baby? All for you. I’m so excited to give you this.” You nodded. Oh, he was going to fuck you within an inch of your life. One orgasm from you wasn’t enough- he was desperate for as many as he could wrangle out of you. He was going to touch you so deeply that you’d think of him whenever you sit down. He wanted to be so close to you that you would never part. 

            The way your body looked underneath him filled him with anticipation. You looked perfect, exactly where you should be: about to be stuffed by his cock. He had spent many lonely nights jerking off to the idea- now that he had you, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed of how lackluster his fantasies were compared to the real thing. 

            You blush and look away as he’s staring at you. He didn’t mean to, but found himself dumbfounded at his luck. He quickly goes in for another kiss- it might be too many for this situation, but he reasoned that life is short and you didn’t seem to be complaining. The kiss kept you occupied, and hopefully took your mind off his creepy staring.

            He briefly wonders if you’ll mind his staring later on, after you’re sated. But this was his chance to prove to you that he was a worthwhile lover, that he could give you anything you want. He couldn’t ruin it with anything. 

            Your legs still shook from your previous orgasm as you failed to stay still. Cute. He took a hand and slipped it into the wetness near your entrance, before bringing it up to your clit and rubbing circles on it. You moaned from the overstimulation, a pretty sound that he would use as masturbation fodder for months to come. He dragged a finger through the wetness again, and he saw your breathing pick up. Your usually dead eyes were becoming dumb with pleasure. He wanted to fuck any bit of sorrow from you, leaving you a mess of joy and his cum. 

            You thrust your hips against his, whining for release. He grants it to you, picking up his leisurely pace in favor of fast but still gentle touches. He dips his head down again to tongue at the pudgy clit between your legs. You whimper. You start to kick your legs, and he grabs hold of them with both hands, planting his face deeper into your cunt. You gasp, a sound he would tuck away for later. He kept both hands wrapped around your thighs, spreading them to gain better access.  

 “Please, Leon I’m- it’s so sensitive.” You grit out. But it only spurred him on further. He continued to lick broad strokes between your thighs.

“Shh baby, you can take it, right?” He said.

“I-I can try.” You were so good to him. He was going to show you how good he can make you feel. He lapped at your cunt until you regained your heavy breathing, like before. God, he would do anything to hear those moans again.

“Please,” You murmur. But what you wanted was unclear- he assumed it was to cum. “You’re going to feel so good in a moment. Please cum for me again.” He ordered through gritted teeth, voice coming out hoarse.

“I- oh my god,” You moan brokenly. And this was his favorite sight- his best friend, laying drunk from pleasure. You arched your back into his mouth, and he knew you were getting close.

“Please,” You moan again.

“You taste so good” He groans out, voice muffled by your pussy.

“You taste so good” He groans out, voice muffled by your pussy. You twitched around his tongue. He wanted to feel his fingers in your warm wet heat. Feel it clenching down on him as he fingerfucked you. He cautiously slipped a single digit inside, and was rewarded by a harsh moan. He moved his fingers to re-find your sweet spot, and curled them, starting shallow and getting rougher as your breathing picked up.

“Please- I- I’m going to come.” You breathed out. He almost didn’t hear you over the sound of your wet pussy directly on his face. But he wouldn’t have missed your voice for the world. He continued his pace at the same rate, hoping to get you there faster. As much as he loved the taste of you, he was eager to feel you on his cock. The thought sent a rush of pleasure down his spine, causing his dick to sit even heavier between his legs. Within a few moments, you were spasming again. He kept curling his fingers inside of you, wringing every bit of pleasure out of you. Your legs tensed, and then your entire body went boneless.

            You laid on the sheets below him, breath heavy as you panted through your aftershocks. And oh, you looked so good beneath him. You were the perfect person for him, so gorgeous looking spent. He gave you a moment to catch your breath.

“Can I… return the favor?” You ask, as if he wasn’t trying to fuck you raw. You tentatively reached out and palmed his dick through his sweatpants. And he moaned, an embarrassingly loud sound. He flushed. But you merely smiled mischievously and drifted your fingers down his entire length.

“God, that feels so good, baby.” He moaned. He pulled your hand away from his dick. “But how about I fuck you instead, huh? So I can feel your pussy around this dick?” It was an ask, a request you could easily refuse. He would understand if you were spent from your previous orgasms. But you merely nodded.

“Give- Give me a second.” you muttered. And you tried to control your breathing, pushing it back to its normal steady pace. He smiled at how cute your attempts to control yourself were. He was going to fuck it out of you. “Okay,” you said. “Give it to me.” And the rush of pleasure he got from those words was heady. It had been a long time since he had been laid- a few weeks. And despite how often he jerked off, it was a lot to finally feel himself inside of someone again. Especially you.

He begins to pull down his pants.

“Take- this this off too.” You ask, gripping at his shirt. He lets you pull it up over him, almost forgetting the thrill of being undressed by another person. “Hell yeah.” You look at him, eyes running down his bare torso, lingering along the scars. Did you just say hell yeah?

“Come on, everything off.” You say, slightly more demanding this time, voice not losing its teasing edge. He nodded and stood up, fully taking off his pants. You smile approvingly and hum. Then you open your arms. He goes to them, pinning you to the bed and kissing you fiercely. Now naked, he could feel your skin burning his.

Leon lined his tip up with your entrance, groaning slightly at the feel of the opening of your walls against his dick. He used his dick to stroke your clit, before lining it up once again. 

“Is this okay?” He asked. You nodded your consent. He wanted to check in on you- two orgasms and a third coming would be a lot for anyone. But you were tough, and so, so wet. You whined as he started to pull himself into you. 

“God, you’re so deep.” You moaned, walls clenching around his cock. He chuckled.

“I’m not even all the way in.” You merely moaned in response, hands gripping the sheets.

“Baby,” he cooed, “Can you take it?” You nodded again. Satisfaction bloomed in his chest.

“Please,” You arched your back, giving him a different angle. “I want it.” And of course he gave it to you, inching himself slowly inside. He was soon buried to the hilt, bodies pressed flush together.

“Oh my god,” He swallowed your moan with his mouth. You broke the kiss. “Please move.” And he did. He slowly brought himself out of you, thrusting softly back in all the way, fucking you deeply, coming out halfway and burying himself to the hilt again. He idly wondered if it was hurting you, if it was too much to take. He’d have other partners say he hurt- but others liked it. He wondered which you would be.

“Do... do I hurt?” he mumbled, voice shaking.

“No, no... feels good.” You sigh. “You’re so deep.” And that sent him reeling. He was doing a good job. He was made for you. He was going to fit inside of you in every way possible. You moaned.

“Hmm this pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it?” He said, keeping his voice near your ear. You merely nodded. But he wanted to hear you. So he picked up the pace, drilling deeper. He was rewarded by your moans getting heavier.

“I’m still- so sensitive from before.” You mumble. “It feels- it feels- oh my god.” You pulled an arm from gripping the sheets and wrapped it around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He kissed your openmouthed lips, drinking in your moans as he fucked you.

“You’re going so fast,” you mumbled. He slowed his hips. “No, no, no, it feels good, go faster.” And he did.

            He didn’t think it was possible to be this deep in you, to be so close. He had been thinking of all the positions he’d want you in, but his favorite had always been close to him, so he can hear your moans in his ear, and feel your skin as it grips him. Your other arm is still clenching the sheets with a vice grip as he pounded into you. He lifts it off the sheet without losing rhythm and placed it on his shoulder. You gripped his skin tightly, exactly as he wanted you to.

            He pounded you into the mattress with wild abandon, letting his instincts take over. Your fingernails scraped into his back, desperate to hold but unable to keep still. Your usually cold skin was flushed and hot, sticking to his. The wet sounds of skin smacking together spurred him on, the room filling with the obscene sound. Your pussy clenched around him.

“Are you getting close, baby?” He murmured; voice unsteady from the pleasure. You nodded.

“Come for me, please. Come on this cock. I want to know what you feel like when you’re milking this dick.” His words sent you over the edge, and you groaned his name long and hard, as if he had been an angel. You once again tensed every muscle, before becoming limp. He kept thrusting through it, trying to wring out every last bit of pleasure for both his sake and yours. You went silent for a moment, before picking up your moaning again. You squealed as he lifted up your leg, pounding from a deeper angle. 

“M’getting close baby.” He muttered. “Just a little longer, god you feel so fucking good” He choked out his words. “Where do you want me?” 

“Inside.” You moaned weakly. And oh, god, your words felt so good. 

            He came with a groan, burying himself deep inside of you. He thrust a few times through it before going still. He fell on you, trying not to crush you with his full weight. But he would love to feel yours on him sometime, fuck, he’s down bad. He rolled off you and onto his back, breathing heavily. You panted across from him. The two of you laid in silence for a few moments before you broke it.

“That was... that was so good.” You say, your voice was uneven, breathless. It sounded gorgeous. You sounded perfect when you were fucked out. He smirked.

“Happy to help.” He said, and then cursed himself for not thinking of a cooler line. He thought for a moment. His brain was fucked out too. Okay, you came- three times, a fact he was proud of. And then he fucked you, and came, inside, you begged for it inside. He wasn’t as young as he used to be anymore, and doubted he could get it up again to continue this. But he still wanted to feel you- to taste you. So, he kissed you, again. You reciprocated, albeit lazily. He lowered his mouth to your neck, and began sucking on it, hoping to leave a mark. His hand came up to lazily trail a thumb around your nipple, and you twitched. You audibly moan in protest.

‘Shh, I know, it’s sensitive. I won’t make you go again.” He murmurs. As much as he would like to keep you here, with him, he doubted you were able to keep up. Nor could he, probably.

            His brain lit up. Aftercare, it said. It was the last step in the sex mission, how could he forget it? He pulled away from you, sensing you were getting out of breath.

“M’gonna clean you up.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.  

“I hope you mean with a cloth.” You say. He chuckles.

“Just for today.” He says, trying not to let his mind wander. Then he sits up and gets out of bed, groaning at the cold floor. He walks naked through the hall to the bathroom, leaving you in his bed. He smiles at the thought of you there, waiting.

            He runs a washcloth under the sink in warm water before walking back. You look almost asleep as he’s coming back. He sits on the bed, and you open your eyes.

“I got a washcloth,” he says dumbly. You nod at him and go to take it. He pulls it back. “No, let me.” You lower your arm and rest it back on his bed. He opens your legs and gingerly presses the washcloth between them. His cum is spilling out of you onto the bed, and your cunt is still wet from your combined fluids. He folds the washcloth and wipes it through your inner thighs. He leans down to press a brief kiss to the top of your folded knee. You shiver. He was trying to be gentle but could tell you were still sensitive. You handled it like a champ. He smiled. He stood back up, hanging the soiled washcloth over the side of his laundry bin.

            You lay there for a moment, breathing, gloriously naked and sprawled across his bed. Then you were sitting up. He watched in horror as you grabbed your shirt and started looking for your underwear.  Just as you were shaking your leg into your black pants he spoke.

“Where are you going?” Did you want to leave? Was it that bad? Did you regret it? But you merely smiled at him.

“I really need a cigarette after this.” You reply. He exhaled. “Come with me?” You offer.

“Uh-yeah.” He says. As tired as he was from sleepless nights and recently coming inside you, he wanted more of your company. If you wanted a cigarette after sex, he’d follow you. He starts to pull on his own clothes, opting to go shirtless. He took out a fresh pair of underwear. “I’ll meet you outside.” He speaks. You nod and continue walking out to the balcony.

#Leon has a big dick canon #fucking while pining #overstim #resident evil 2 #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x gn! reader #leon kennedy x reader #re4 #resident evil vendetta #resident evil x reader #vendetta #vendetta leon #death island #psychic sobriety #resident evil smut #resident evil 4

[mooseonahunt]

TGCF x Serennedy AU where Luis saves Leon once and Leon spends the next 800 years pining after him and going to extreme lengths to do right by him.

#i’m just spitballing here #but also if you haven’t caught on by now I’m a total sucker for Leon being dangerously devoted to Luis #Leon pining horrendously bad after Luis is so good I’m here for it #serennedy #serrennedy #moose posting #also this is a JOKE #I’m not about to put these two westerners into a xianxia novel

[totallynottinsel]

Warnings: none. Just some tooth rotting fluff for the soul. and maybe a little angst

Ship: Chreon (+ some Jill x Claire sprinkled in for fun)

Ty to my wonderful mom for this whole idea of the gang getting to have a chill day out for once, she's amazing so all credit goes to her for the prompt (: (i've dragged her into the Chreon cult)

Finally, with the world saved once again by the skin of everyone’s teeth, there was that silent, open void left over; it was a bit funny how these top tier government agents and so on had a hard time figuring out what to occupy themselves with when not stopping bioterrorists or shooting zombies. Though most of them had gotten used to that same empty space by now. 

After Dylan had been successfully put to a stop, as well as the events on Alcatraz Island settled—the near exhausted group of friends wanted to at least spend a little time all together before each of them had to return to their own set of work again. Yet the question was…what would they do? None could seem to agree on one thing throughout the various ideas and suggestions spat out, though at least someone had a decent choice. Rebecca ended up saying they should simply go out for ice cream, to which they all happily agreed to. Who wouldn’t though?

They all decided to carpool to make the trip easier. “I’m calling shotgun!” Claire exclaimed as she dashed to the side of the car, sitting herself inside right next to her brother, who’d already been the chosen driver—whilst Jill and Rebecca got stuck with the backseats. But at least it wasn’t too squished for the two of them, or so they would think for a good minute. 

“Hey, can I ride with you guys? I’ve kinda lost mine” A low, unsure voice kindly asked the rest of the group, which was quick to catch everyone’s attention. It belonged to Leon of course, who stood just a few feet away from the vehicle, arms crossed as he patiently awaited a response.  

“What happened to your bike?” Chris asked with curiosity towards the other, his arm resting on the rim of the car’s open window. 

“I…don’t really wanna talk about it.” The blond replied in an underlying tone of remorse, his gaze fluttering down to the ground below him, almost in a shameful manner. 

"Not again…" Claire murmured from her side, leaning forward to try and get a better look out her brother's window, not all too surprised by the revolution. Especially seeing who it was coming from.

"What does she mean again? Jesus, how many bikes have you recked?" Jill raised an eyebrow to the topic, staring at the apprehensive man outside the car with a slightly distasteful, yet nonetheless intrigued look on her face. 

"Too many for my liking." Leon mumbled under his breath as it was mixed with the tiniest tinge of annoyance, which was fair in his defense. He made his way over to the car, and slid himself inside the backseat alongside the other two—who were now stuck being squished next to each other. 

"So what I got from that was, is that I get to sit next to the guy who's known for wrecking bikes and or vehicles? Just my luck." She remarked straight back, her tone riddled with sarcasm as she kept on trying to lean far from him, making their limited space even worse no doubt. "Wanna swap seats?" She asked the woman next to her.

"I'll pass." Rebecca gladly declined, knowing fully well she wasn't about to be the human shield in case the curse of the vehicle wrecker was real all along. 

"Don't worry, we'll get you a new one, again. It's no big deal." Chris didn't hesitate one bit to put up an offer towards the other man, his usual warm and inviting smile coming across his face as he started up the car, one hand leisurely placed on the wheel.

"You don't have to do that, Chris—really. I can get my own this time, eventually…" He denied the gracious offer with hesitance; it wouldn't be the first time he's said no, yet came home to a snazzy new bike regardless. 

"He just likes finding any excuse to buy you things." Claire couldn't help but comment with a grin towards the two, shifting to look back at Leon, who rightfully was trying to avoid direct eye contact. Even if everyone was staring at him with intrigue. "You know he'll get it for you no matter what you say or do." He sank right into his seat after hearing that. 

—-------

"Are you going to pick or just stand there?" Chris asked with a gentle sigh, waiting for Jill to finally order whatever flavor of ice cream she was so deeply contemplating for what seemed like years. At this rate, she'd been holding up the line of impatient kids—whilst Claire and Rebecca had no issues ordering and taking a seat outside the place.  

"Give me a break! It's been awhile since I ordered anything, let alone ice cream." She gave a snappy response before eventually making her decision out of the bajillion flavors this place had, and was glad to leave the devilish gazes of all those kids waiting for their daily sugar intake. 

"Did you order anything yet?" Chris directed his attention back to the silent man standing off to the side, seeming a bit fazed out—as if he'd been distracted this entire time, which might've been true. 

"Huh–? Oh, yeah… I'll just have whatever you're having, I'm not really that hungry." Leon merely shrugged his shoulders, stuffing his hands down into the pockets of his leather jacket, having his laid back demeanor as always. 

"You sure?" The older wanted to confirm, though a hint of concern was noticeable in his voice towards the other. 

"Yeah, like I said, I'm not super hungry or anything…but if I do I'll just steal some from yours." He at least had a half smile going, which was better than nothing at all, but something still felt a bit off. 

The two men returned back outside within no time, ice cream in hand as the sun was shining, people out and about, no blood curdling screams of terror. Or big tyrants stomping around. All in all it was…well, a normal, average day, by anyone else's standards. But for this group of pals in particular? This was like a dream.

"Looks like we've been ditched." Leon snarkily remarked at the supposed other three friends who'd left before them, now nowhere in sight. So…that left the both of them, alone once again to either sit in cricket filled silence as they stood on the sidewalk, or attempt at striking up a decent conversation. What the hell would they even talk about at this point? That was always the question when this scene played out, with no mission to swiftly coordinate with one another, or battle to face. Though in all honesty, neither one totally hated the silence—it was almost nice of sorts to just be in each other's company, no words needed.

"You doing okay?" Chris finally spoke up after at least five minutes of just head nodding and gestures of acknowledgement, having already taken notice of the other's odd quietness, and how he kept on resting his eyes nearly the whole time. "You've been pretty quiet all morning." 

"I'm fine, just real tired. I barely got any sleep last night…actually, scratch that, I haven't got any sleep all damn week. I guess it's catching up to me." The fatigued blond rubbed his drowsy eyes with his hand, leaning his back against the concrete wall next to the store. "I can't seem to figure out how to stop having nightmares, and I feel like I've tried everything, you know?" 

"Yeah, I do." Chris gave a weary nod in return; he definitely had similar experiences with dreams throughout his entire life, though he wasn't sure if his were as frequent, and as bad as Leon's. He's heard about them in detail before, and it didn't sound like a pleasant sight to see. He also wasn't an expert when it came to comforting people, so he gently leaned his cup of ice cream towards the other, offering it up with a kindhearted smile. 

Leon let a short chuckle go as he spotted the ice cream, decided to accept the treat, even if it wasn't a flavor he preferred—he didn't mind at all if it was coming from Chris. He pulled out one of the plastic spoons that sat in the side of it, and popped a spoon full into his mouth, pleasantly surprised by it. 

"You'll always have my shoulder to lean on, just know that." The older said whilst taking a bite of his own, happy to have seen his offer of ice cream be taken up. 

"Good, 'cause I'm beat." Leon didn't hesitate much to carefully rest his sleepy head on the side of the other's shoulder, not exactly being able to reach the top due to their slight height difference. He obviously chose to take the Chris's words more literally than figuratively—but hey, the man was exhausted, so what's the harm in it? 

The two decided to stay there, taking in the scenery; sounds of speedy cars rushing by, or the sounds of distant voices and footsteps. It was honestly quite relaxing, and with how tired Leon already was, he was struggling to even keep his eyes open as he took a long awaited rest—which no doubt wouldn't be happening if Chris wasn't here. They made each other feel safe enough to put their guards down for once. It was sort of like having a big fuzzy blanket you could hide yourself under, and you felt as if nobody could touch you. 

"Hey, Chris?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You really don't have to get me a new bike." 

"I want to." 

Leon sighed in defeat, eyes still closed, knowing there was no way he'd win this argument. 

"Maybe Claire was right when she said I use it as an excuse to buy you things, but it's also an excuse to get to see you. Without having to fight bioterrorist's in the same day."  It was true, he was always looking for little ways to try and see or talk to the agent away from anything work related, and it'd become painfully obvious to everyone around that he was trying so hard to spend time with him, well—to everyone but Leon. 

“All you have to do is ask, y’know? It’s no trouble if you ever wanna call me up and hang around, or something. No need to spend your entire life savings on me, Redfield.” He mentally cursed at his own words after some thought over them, wondering if ‘hanging around’ was the right thing to suggest, should he have recommended going out to dinner? Or perhaps another group activity? He was unsure, and the room was a bit hard to read…so, all he could really do was hope for the best. 

“I might just take you up on that, then.” Well, Chris definitely seemed up for it, so…at least he was doing something right. 

—----- 

"That's a keeper." Claire said with a smile of her own as she snapped a good photo of the two men from round the street corner, knowing it was a rare sight they were ever that close in a public setting—and she couldn't wait to see the look on her brother's face once she showed it to him later. 

"How have neither of them asked each other out?" Rebecca asked with absolute disbelief, shaking her head as she finished off her scoop of ice cream.

"Honestly, I thought Leon would be making moves left and right on him, but I realized he talks a bigger game than he's actually got. And that's just based off a few days knowing him." Jill summed it up fairly well as she watched the two, arms crossed with a small smile before she moved her gaze to the other women beside her. "You Redfields are awful at flirting too." 

"She's got a point, I've been around those two long enough to get the feeling that Chris…isn't necessarily great at flirting…" Rebecca chimed in with reluctance. 

"Hey, we're not awful flirters! I can do it just as well as anyone else, and maybe Chris…struggles, but he gets there." Claire defended the both of them with confidence in her voice, one she'd soon come to regret as she attempted trying to come up with a flirt, or pickup line, yet—she found herself stuck with infuriated embarrassment by the end of it. 

"Alright, stop— look, this is how you do it." Jill set her empty cup of melted ice cream down onto the ground, rolling her shoulders back as she stepped a few feet away, then turned around and walked up to the younger Redfield again, who was still speechless. "Hey, wanna go out some time, beautiful?" 

In all honesty, it wasn't that great of a line, and really shouldn't work on anyone. Yet the way Jill said those words—the way she walked with absolute confidence, and her voice was as smooth as ever—it lit something inside Claire that she suddenly couldn't explain, and all she could say was…

"Uh, sure–?" She uttered out with a mix of confusion, surprise, and…an interesting dose of excitement. 

"Great." Jill accepted it, and was content with her work for the day enough to begin walking back—with a flabbergasted Claire and semi entertained Rebecca following—towards the two men who were practically in their own little world—which would soon come to a speedy crash. "Is he asleep…?" She asked in a low voice. 

The sound of Jill's harsh, sudden questioning was enough to jolt Leon awake from his relaxed and peaceful state, swiftly leaving his claimed spot on Chris's shoulder and very quickly deciding to pretend as if that was the last thing he was doing. And totally was not taking an extremely enjoyable nap on his quote on quote ‘friend's’ arm. Yet now he just looked plain freaked out instead of cool and collected. "Where the hell did you all come from–?"

"We were hanging around the corner, just to let you two have some quality time to yourselves.” Rebecca answered with her usual soft tone,  though it was as clear as day she was in on whatever the three of them were conspiring over there. “Well, until Jill had something to say to you, I believe."

Chris audibly sighed, a bit bitter by the fact his moment was abruptly interrupted, but tried in his best efforts to keep calm about it, just for the 50\50 chance that whatever she had to say was important in some way, shape or form.

“What is it?”

“I asked your sister out, and she said sure.” Blunt as ever.

“You what?”

The silence had gotten so thick, you could cut it with a knife. And that soon faded into mindless staring—just waiting for someone to awkwardly cough, or say any sentence at all. Nobody was entirely sure if this was all a planned joke or quite literal. 

“Jill what do you mean? Don’t walk away!” He threw his hands up in utter confusion as he chased after her down the sidewalk, itching to get a straighter answer and much needed context he clearly missed, whilst Rebecca kept on telling them not to banter so close to the busy road. Far too many times.

Leon didn’t give many words to the whole ordeal, and instead chose to simply watch in saddened disappointment as Chris left his side; he had a blatant frown as he put his hands back in his pockets, returning to the same state he’d been in all morning within the blink of an eye. Although he did have one question that took him a bit aback, out of everything that went down. 

“I didn’t know you…well, you know, were into women–?” He tilted his head towards Claire with uncertainty to his own question, even if they’d been close friends for years now—new information still seemed to pop up out of the blue. 

“I didn’t know you were into my brother.” She didn’t even have to look back at him to get her point across, and held back a large smile while doing so. She’d noticed his sudden spring of dismay the moment Chris walked off right away, of course, and couldn’t help but comment on it if no one else would. 

The blond didn’t deny her accusation by any means, and simply took a stand by her side, a chuckle escaping his lips as they watched the other three repartee all across the street, a true sight for sore eyes getting to see them have a bit of fun. 

“I don’t think he knows either.”

#resident evil #resident evil death island #leon kennedy #chris redfield #claire redfield #jill valentine #rebecca chambers #chreon #jill x claire #leon x chris #gay gay gay gay #oneshot #short fiction #idk what else to tag #spent way too much time on this #or something #I was gonna call this Live Laugh Ice Cream but started questioning a lot of things #fluff #mutual pining #a smidge of angst ofc #TY TO MY MOM she's great when i'm stuck in a artist block #life saver fr 🙏

[starwritesstuff]

i would do anything for you to love me like i'm an american hero

(Chap 1)

yeah yeah yeah this is a rainbow kitten surprise song title i can't help myself- i did draw quite a bit of inspo from this song anyhooooozzllessss i put this on ao3 but i figure since i be writing stuff here too i'll post it here.

summary: You hold your hand out and introduce yourself. “Figured I should at least give you my name since I make it a point to bother you every time I see you here.” He takes it, grip warm, firm. “I’m Leon Kennedy.” Gives you a crooked grin. “And you’re not a bother.” Oh? You weren’t, huh? ---- You're pathetic and in love with your best friend. How do you love a ghost?

word count: 3,127

rating: this chapter is g rated buuuttt there is eventual smut so i cannot recommend minors reading this fic- also pls brace yourselves for a lotta angst i'm rly gonna PUT THEM THROUGH A BLENDER (insert me rubbing my hands together like some kinda Machiavellian freak)

The first time you meet Leon it’s in a cafe. He’d bumped into you in line. Leon muttered a sheepish apology and you thought it had been downright adorable.

You’d flirted shamelessly with him- how could you not? With looks like that, the near innocent way he had said sorry. He’d just stood there, a bit awkward, and you’d thought- god what a cutie.

After that you had started to see him a lot more frequently at that cafe and, well, you hadn’t been a regular. But you became one since that first interaction.

It’s not for another month that you get the courage to do more than make flirtatious comments- though he’s always a good sport about those.

“Anyone ever told you you’re kind of an awkward guy?” You ask him, sipping on your hot latte. Eyeing him. He startles, turning a very blue gaze your way.

“Ah, yeah.” He laughs, a dry thing, and rubs the back of his neck. “Might have been once or twice.” Oh could he get any more sweet? He reminds you of a puppy.

You hold your hand out and introduce yourself. “Figured I should at least give you my name since I make it a point to bother you every time I see you here.”

He takes it, grip warm, firm. “I’m Leon Kennedy.” Gives you a crooked grin. “And you’re not a bother.” Oh? You weren’t, huh?

The two of you are standing in the lobby, someone shuffling past you to get to the line. Right. You’re in the way.

You turn back to Leon, grinning. “Do you want to come sit with me? Save me from boring reports?” You watch a flush settle along the back of his neck, crawling up to turn the tips of his ears red. You’re so in trouble.

Leon returns your grin with teeth that are slightly crooked. Furthering your deep descent into your crush.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you paced any more you’d likely wear a tread into the carpet.

It had been months, you think, since you heard from Leon. More since you last saw him.You knew he had an unorthodox job. Something dangerous. Leon always returned a little more banged than when he left.

You didn’t expect Leon, who was more or less a sweet, bashful guy, to have a job like that. But he always, always managed to make contact when he was gone. Whatever had happened you just hoped, wished, prayed to what deity would listen that he was okay. That he wasn’t dead. That he’d come back, even if he was banged up.

You force yourself to quit your relentless back and forth. Tea. You wanted- needed some tea. That honey chamomile you’d gotten last week at the store. You had some clover honey pops to go with it, if you could find them. You tap your fingers impatiently on the stove handle, waiting for the kettle to boil. When it does, you ignore the shakiness of your hands as you pour it over two bags. You like your tea strong.

Walking over to your couch, collapse. Curse loudly when you slosh some of that hot tea fresh off the stove on your fingers. You stick your pointer and middle finger in your mouth, wincing at the stinging pain. Gotta turn something on the TV, distract yourself. You settle on The Great British Bake Off. Stupid stuff, but you liked the friendly competition. And you got to see some pretty neat creations.

You settle into the couch, worn and comfy from years of use, like most of the things in your home. What can you say, you liked homey, comfy things. You draw the fuzzy blanket draped over the couch to you. Wrap yourself up. Sip your tea. And watch Paul Hollywood stare with his weird blue eyes.

It’s actually doing a great job of taking your mind off of Leon. British accents and pastries have that effect, you think. The heat kicks on and you take your sweater off, leaving you in your thin camisole. Too hot for blankets, sweaters, and the heat on. You pillow your head on the arm of the couch.

You don’t know what wakes you. But the hairs on the back of your neck prickle and you have this awful feeling of being watched. Your living room was dark, your TV having gone into that energy saving mode it does when it’s on too long. You stay very still, heart pounding. There’s a creak and you know someone is there.

Could be one of two things because honestly, the only person that could access your home was Leon. Or, conversely, a burglar. Murderer. Whatever.

“Leon?” That seems the most obvious choice. You slowly sit up, rubbing gritty sleep from your eyes.

“Yeah.” Comes his husky reply.

“Christ. What time is it?”

“Just after one in the morning.” Soft light floods the room; he’s turned on one of your floor lamps. You shove a hand through your hair. You slept all of four hours probably. Your mouth is fuzzy and you run your tongue over them. Tastes nasty, too. You must’ve fallen asleep with your mouth open. You hate doing that.

He comes over, to sit by you on the couch and god he does not look good. He’s got a cut over the bridge of his nose, deep purple coloring under his eyes and his straight brows are hung low, scrunching over his nose.

“So” you start. Stop. Take a drink of cold tea to wet your throat. This was awkward. Your locks had been changed. Did he pick them?

He isn’t looking at you, rather he’s looking at the floor. His hands hang loosely between his knees, elbows planted on his thighs. Leon looks exhausted. You had meant to rage at him a little when you saw him next. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do that right now. Not when he looks like this.

“Long trip?” You settle on. Leaning back under your blanket, cradling that cold cup of tea in your hands. Just for something to do.

“Something like that”, he grunts. Opens his mouth, then closes it again. He shakes his head and for a wild moment you’re reminded of a dog shaking its floppy ears. You say nothing, turn your attention back to your tea. It’s tense. You rub your finger along the rim of the cup.

“I suppose I owe you an apology.” Leon’s squinting at you now. He looks unsure, like maybe you have the answers. You shrug instead. Your shoulders get stuck up by your ears though, hunching. You force them down.

“If you want.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Leon’s eyes slide over to you. He doesn’t seem familiar to you right now. There’s no boyish light in his eyes, no silly puppy look to his features. He moves with a deliberate slowness, nothing like the eagerness you’re used to. Something’s happened, you know it has.

You clear your throat.

“If you want me to leave, I can go.” Startled you look at him. “No. No, I was just… thinking about if you’d picked my lock.” It was only half of a lie, anyway.

Leon snorts. “Should consider locking the deadbolt. It’s there for a reason.” Ah, right. The deadbolt. You never use. You guess locks on a door handle are probably much easier to get through than a deadbolt.

“Look, I know it’s been awhile.” Leon says, shoving his elbows off his thighs and letting out a long breath. You fidget with your cup some more. “It has.”

You really have no right to feel this way. The two of you are… Best friends. Close, but not close in the ways to warrant this irrational anger you have. You feel almost abandoned. You cringe inwardly at the feeling. Abandoned. Yeah, what are you, some rescue animal dropped off at the shelter?

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leon’s jaw clench, the muscle fluttering under sallow skin.

You shift under your blanket, eyes bleary, focusing on some faraway point in the living room that you can't really see. You grumble about needing to find your glasses. A few seconds later, Leon hands them to you. You take them, careful to not brush his fingers. You don’t look at him when you quietly murmur your thanks. You wish that he would say something, or you would just open your mouth and say what you feel. Something to relieve the tension in the room.

“I’m surprised to see you. For a while there I wasn’t sure…” You trail off. You don’t want to finish the sentence.

He cracks a smile. It looks worn at the edges, a little unsure. “I wasn’t… I didn’t know if I’d be welcome.” Your shoulders hunch again at that. He probably wouldn’t have been welcome had you known he was going to come here, if you were honest. Ah, have you mentioned you hate this? Things haven’t been weird and tense between the two of you since, well, ever.

“Aw, don’t be like that. You know you’re always welcome here.”

“Am I?”

You pick at the blanket. “Of course.” You blow a breath out, blow it up and it stirs the hair off your forehead.

You grab the TV remote, turn it on.

“I was watching The Great British Bake Off.” You say when he doesn’t reply. The two of you sit for awhile. The TV lights flickering over your faces. You don’t know about Leon, but you’re not really watching. Not really, no. You were sneaking glances at him, taking his still stiff posture. How his hands haven’t moved from his thighs. He looks poised to run, you think.

The episode ends. Starts a new one. You think maybe the not talking happening between the two of you is going to drive you crazy. But you don’t open your mouth. Don’t try to pick at this weird shell he’s created, retreated into. You probably should. He’s your best friend. You should want to try to be there for him.

You’re scared. This new version of Leon feels like he doesn’t want to be here. With you. The old Leon would be excitedly telling you about blowing shit up and shyly asking if you wanted to get coffee at that cafe. As if you’d say no, despite the many times the two of you have kept up the tradition. Now he seems to not know what to do with you. How to be here.

You rub your nose. Pull your knees up. Tuck your hair behind your ears. You know you’re fidgeting. You can’t help it. You’ve never felt this- this weird next to him. Okay, maybe weird isn’t the right word. You certainly feel strange around him, you’re not a fool, you know why. But this is a new strangeness. It’s born of an insecurity that you never thought you’d have.

“You don’t… have to stay. You know? I won’t be mad if you have, like, other places you wanna be.” You wonder if that comes out as needy as you feel. Leon turns his gaze to you, something complicated flicking through his eyes. Quick enough that you don’t quite catch it, not quick enough that you don’t notice it and wonder.

“No, no. Sorry. I’m tired.” Leon’s tone gives nothing away. But it sounds like an excuse to your ears. Does he… pity you? Feel obligated to you? To stay? You try to grin at him, like you always do, like you used to. “Sure. Sure, yeah, I imagine. Um, the guest bed is always made up. You know, just in case.” And it had been. It stayed made up since the last time you had left. Leon huffs out a near silent laugh. “Is it?”

“Yeah. You kinda made a habit of crashing here, you know. So I just… kept it. I mean, I wash the sheets and stuff.” You hurry to explain that last part. You’d taken to keeping extras of things around the house for him. Toothbrush, towel, shirts and boxers and socks. It was all very domestic, blah blah blah. Your heart clenches.

Leon shifts in his spot. Toes off his boots. You wrinkle your nose.

“Walking around in my house with your nasty boots, huh” you chide him, teasing. You get a flash of a genuine smile at that. Your heart unclenches. Just a little.

“Sorry” he says. He doesn’t sound very sorry. In fact, you’d say he sounds a little mischievous. Leon holds his boots out to you. “Wanna see how nasty they are?” You squeal, smack at them. “You’re gross, Kennedy.”

He laughs, sets them by the couch. “You’re fond of telling me.”

You raise a brow at him. "Do you have to put them there? You could, I don't know, stick them. On the shoe rack. That is literally right by my door." Leon shrugs.

“Easier to just take them off here.” He teases. But he gets up, sets the boots on the rack. Holds out his hands in a placating gesture. “See? I put them away like a good boy.” You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle laughter.

“You wouldn’t know how to be a good boy if it came up and slapped you in the face.” You poke at him. “You’re a menace.”

Leon levels you with a kind of look that has your giggles freezing in your throat. Just shy of indecipherable, poorly hidden heat. You hadn’t really thought about the words when they came out, just enjoying the banter with him. You quickly look away. No way were you taking any time to pick apart that look. Adjust your mental position, firmly sticking yourself in the “Leon’s closest friend” category.

“It’s getting a bite late for me,” you say, fighting to keep your voice from wavering. “I think I’m going to actually go to bed.” You think you see a flash of disappointment cross his pretty features. But he stands with you, stretching. T-shirt riding up, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of pale skin, toned. Light scars littered amongst moles.

You turn your head away, give Leon a light pat on the shoulder. “See you in the morning? Let’s go to our cafe.”

“Sure, been awhile. D’you think they remember me?”

“Hard to forget, don’t’cha think?”

Leon laughs at that. Does that thing where he awkwardly shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes. He needs a haircut, you think. It’s gotten over-long. Makes you think of a little emo boy.

“I’ll wake you when I’m up.” He was saying, jerking you out of your musings.

“No later than 8am, mister.” You warn him. Well aware that Leon was an early riser, no matter how little he slept. Leon puts a warm hand on the top of your head. “I promise, I will not wake you before 8am.” He says with mock solemnity. You suck your teeth in response, moving to knock his hand off your head. Retreat a few steps towards your room.

“Good. See that you don’t. Goodnight, Kennedy.” You call, escaping to your room. Try to calm your racing heart. Leon didn’t often initiate physical contact with you, and that was fine, really you preferred it that way. Because when he does, your brain fizzles out. Nervous system goes haywire.

You climb into bed, thoughts shifting to Leon’s earlier behavior. How tense things had been. It was the first time you felt that uncomfortable with him. The two of you were normally much more cohesive. You had a sneaking suspicion that whatever he’d come back from was different. Different from what he usually dealt with. Though, you know you likely won’t get to know. You generally weren’t privy to specifics with him.

You flip to your side, restless. Drag the covers your head, clutching a pillow close to your chest. And what was that ridiculous reaction earlier? Leon had looked… Hot? Sexy? Wanting? Your traitorous brain supplies. Surely not, not because of someone like you. Sure you flirted with him, had built a silly friendship with that flirtation as the foundation, but it didn’t mean anything. You’re, well, you. And Leon’s Leon. He was… magnetic, a little stupid, a little cheesy, but you’d been drawn to that. And he was pretty- really, you hadn’t seen a man so beautiful. All high cheekbones, full lips, delicate brows. And you weren’t convinced he didn’t use mascara or eyeliner, or something with lashes like those.

 It hurt sometimes, looking at him. 

You weren’t typically an insecure person. You’d even say that, sometimes, you might even be a bit big for your britches. But your friendship (you refuse to call it a relationship) with Leon left you feeling a little inadequate at times. That feeling had crawled into your sternum, made a little nest among your heart and viscera the first time he’d come back from a trip. You wished you could grab it, like it was one of those prickly things that attached themselves to your socks, and pluck it out. But it was there to stay. 

You jerk the covers off your head, the space having gotten hot, humid and somewhat hard to breathe. You roll onto your back, dragging the pillow with you. You wonder what Leon was doing. Was he tossing and turning? Punching his pillow softer, to fit his head? Or had he just conked out, exhausted. Sometimes, when he stayed over, he’d get nightmares. And you’d find his silhouette in your doorway, shyly asking if he could sit with you for a bit. First time he did it you thought you might shit your pants. You had scolded him, told him to make a little noise. That waking up to him just hanging in the doorway like some kinda freaky serial killer was just terrifying. Since then, Leon had always made sure to purposely creak your creaky floorboards, to swing the door open noisily.

Not tonight, though. It was quiet. The overhead fan was the only sound you could hear. It was too quiet, one of those nights that made you wish you had a TV in your room, so you could stick something on. The silence just made your thoughts louder, screaming, ringing in your head. Knowing Leon was just in the other room, yards away, doing whatever it is he does at night, knotted your stomach. Quickened your breath. Made that thing in your chest ache. 

You forcefully wrangle your melancholy thoughts into submission. It was far too late for any more of it, and you needed some semblance of sleep. You just know Leon’s going to wake you precisely at 8am, just to be difficult. 

#resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil angst #mutual pining #friends to lovers #slow burn #angst with a happy ending #star's writing

[jackelated]

I made a slideshow about fighting my favorite characters (long)

#dipper pines #patrick jane #spencer reid #alec hardy #black beard #sebastian castellanos #leon s. kennedy #sherlock holmes #phileas fogg #dean winchester #ballister boldheart #mortimer folchart #matt murdock #bruce wayne #jason todd #bucky barnes #spider man #spock #john constantine #the spot #crowley #klaus hargreeves #nico di angelo #hunter #the doctor #en #shin #kakyoin noriaki #leone abbacchio #original

[fonulyn]

Even with his head still hurting, Chris forced his eyes open, squinting even in the low light of the room to try to figure out where he was. It was a small room, probably a storage unit of some sort, no furniture, no windows, no nothing except for him sitting in the corner alone. Well, fuck. This was going to be amazing.

Still feeling dizzy and disoriented, not to mention the godawful headache, Chris closed his eyes. Yet as he passed out, once again, he couldn’t stop wishing for Leon to be there, to hold him as he died.

- Or, Chris gets kidnapped.

#chris redfield #leon kennedy #chreon #ot3 #look the pairing situation is complicated #it is explained in the author's notes #but basically this is Chris pining for Leon #and ends in an ot3 #my fics #my ot3 fics #sorta lmao #tagging this was such a pain :'D